


never late (no time out)

by kamyska



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, and potentially triggering, pls read the notes before you get into it, this is super heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamyska/pseuds/kamyska
Summary: Taeyong knows today won’t be a good day the moment he wakes up. Actually, he knows a little sooner, when his chest squeezes and his lungs forget to work and he wakes up panicked from skipping a breath, panting, cold sweat on his forehead. It’s well before his alarm, both a blessing and a curse because while he appreciates having time to himself before the day starts it also means he had slept a little under three hours which… to be fair, at least he did sleep. That in itself should count as a success.(Between the 127 tour, superm debut and the preparation for next year's comeback, Taeyong is too busy to be able to afford bad days. That sadly doesn't mean they don't come.)
Relationships: Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 11
Kudos: 169





	never late (no time out)

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this fic centres around anxiety and features a detailed description of a panic attack. if that is something you find upsetting or potentially triggering, please skip this one.
> 
> (a couple disclaimers: as much as this is rpf and based on real-life events, i in no way mean to imply that this is something that actually happened or is happening irl. it is very much a made up scenario very loosely based on reality. the portrayal of anxiety in this fic is based mainly on my personal experience. anxiety has many forms and manifests in many ways, this is just one of them.)
> 
> title from mark's solo 'talk about'
> 
> BLACK LIVES MATTER  
> find the resources and contribute to the cause at <https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#>

Taeyong knows today won’t be a good day the moment he wakes up. Actually, he knows a little sooner, when his chest squeezes and his lungs forget to work and he wakes up panicked from skipping a breath, panting, cold sweat on his forehead. It’s well before his alarm, both a blessing and a curse because while he appreciates having time to himself before the day starts it also means he had slept a little under three hours which… to be fair, at least he did sleep. That in itself should count as a success.

His schedule for today isn’t really that bad - a later start than usual, filming for some 127 thing that he won’t be able to participate in in October, a run through of last night’s recording, probably some changes, dance practice. It’s lighter than it’s been the past weeks but right now he wants nothing more than to cuddle back into his blankets, maybe order cake, and watch something mindless. But obligations are obligations and he knows he is privileged to be doing what he is doing so he gets out of bed, gets dressed, leaves on time.

By the time they park at the company Taeyong has managed to push his panic back into its designated corner in his brain and pull a smile on his face. He feels it drag at the corners of his mouth, is acutely aware of how his lips stretch, how it brings his cheeks up higher. He knows the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes but there is nothing he can really do about that but hope it doesn’t show on camera.

He bows to the makeup ladies, lovely as always even as they tut at the dark circles under his eyes. They get to work with cheery vigor and usually Taeyong loves getting his makeup done, likes the feel of the brushes on his skin, people combing his hair, loves that he can just sit for a minute, close his eyes, get pampered. But bad anxiety days come with hypersensitivity to touch and he feels every brush of product on his face as if it were branding into his skin, has to fight his reflexes so that he won’t flinch every time something comes close to his face.

He clenches his hands into fists, desperate to focus on something else than what’s happening to his face, tries to shift his thoughts to the stinging pain of his nails digging into his palms. He gets through the half-hour it takes to get him ready for filming like that, pain in his palms and breathing exercises. His nails are thankfully not long enough to break skin but there is a collection of angry half-moons on his palms by the time they’re done. He will have to be careful not to wave at the camera during filming.

The filming itself is the part he has been dreading since the morning. It’s not his favourite activity even on good days, especially if he is to do it alone. But like this, the sheer amount of producers and cameramen and the bright lights trigger his fight or flight response as soon as he steps into the room. He wants nothing more than to run and hide somewhere dark and quiet. Preferably alone. But he has been doing this job for over three years now and thus is a professional at ignoring that instinct, shoving it in the same corner as this morning’s panic.

He bows to all the staff, sits at the table, pulls a smile on his face. Pointedly ignores how fake it feels, how it tugs at his lips in all the wrong ways. He feels like a doll throughout the entirety of the filming and he hates it, hates that he doesn’t know how to be fully present in his body right now. Their fans deserve something more honest than this. But they also look to them to gain strength, to have something to make them smile after a long day and he can’t betray that. Won’t allow himself to slip up, to make his discomfort show on his face.

He all but runs out when the end is announced, thanks his manager mentally for wrestling a twenty minute break into his schedule after the filming. It was probably originally intended for lunch, but food is the last thing on Taeyong’s mind right now, he mostly needs a place to be alone and safe just to let himself calm down a hair before he has to deal with people again.

Finding an empty studio is not as challenging as he thought, something finally going well, and he locks the door behind himself, doesn’t bother turning on the lights, slides down to the floor, leans against the door. Takes a couple minutes just to let himself feel all the things he hadn’t allowed his body to truly acknowledge before. The residual adrenaline from the filming is still in his veins and makes him breathe faster, clench his fists again, press them to his closed eyelids.

Over the past three years - or really even before that - he has become a professional at this. You can’t just take days off from being an idol on the account of your brain being shitty. You aren’t likely to be picked to become one in the first place if you are seen crumbling under pressure, as anything less than in complete control of your body at all times, anything less than perfectly disciplined. 

And so now he knows how to push his anxiety away for long enough that he can get through the daily tasks, knows places to hide and break down in if he has a couple spare minutes, knows how to make himself look perfectly fine again in the matter of seconds. When he breaks down he breaks down alone, secluded, as quiet as possible. He never wants to bother anyone, doesn’t want anyone’s pity, fears anyone seeing how weak he is on days like this one.

When his allocated twenty minutes are almost up Taeyong picks himself slowly off the floor, turns the light on to check his face in his phone screen, puts his smile back on. He makes it less luminous now than he had for the cameras, but still smile enough to look pleasant and friendly for when he meets the producers. The action feels robotic, like his facial muscles are operated by gears that he has to push and pull rather than by his emotions. He sighs through it and goes to find the recording studio.

The recording is definitely the most comfortable part of his day so far. The studio is dim, the producers are nice enough, and he does actually love what they do, what he gets to be a part of. Loves music and the people he gets to do it with, loves how far their talents and hard work can push them. Mark had recorded his parts early this morning so it is the first time Taeyong is hearing them and that also contributes to his brain calming down for a moment. 

Mark’s voice has always had that effect on him, whether he is hearing him sing through the walls at the dorm or like this, his rap fast and sharp over a trap beat, one of the first songs for 127’s new album. It takes Taeyong’s breath away in the opposite way from what his anxiety does. Where anxiety is ice and sharp needles in his lungs, pain and panic, Mark’s voice is warmth and familiarity, a reminder of why he loves what he is doing. A reminder of what he loves, period.

He listens to Mark’s parts more times than necessary, centers himself around them, tries to let himself bleed out into the song - or rather the song bleed into him - as much as possible so that there is nothing else he is thinking of. He knows it won’t quite happen, not with the way today has gone so far. But he thinks he manages enough, is fairly satisfied with the additions they have made by the time he is finished. The producers look pleased, so there is that, also. Maybe today will turn out to not be horrible in the end.

With that thought in mind, he packs his stuff and heads out to practice. Everyone else is already in the room and they wave at him from where they are, only Ten actually getting up to give him a half-hug. Taeyong tries hard to happily accept it, maybe even gain some comfort from the action, but it really only reminds him of how aware touch makes him of his own skin, every place Ten touched feeling uncomfortable long after he’s pulled away. He’s glad they’re not hugging-close with the seniors yet, doesn’t think he could take any more touching right now.

It’s just four of them today, schedules not allowing the rest to join, so they only do a couple run-throughs of Jopping, just to see if anyone needs to fix anything, have a quick discussion on expressions. The main thing they’re focusing on today is No Manners, since that choreography doesn’t require the full group and they haven’t had a chance to learn it properly yet.

Taeyong had been looking forward to doing the choreography to his own song but today that excitement is quickly overshadowed by worry. Practice - or anything, really - with SuperM is always a bit more stressful, always more difficult, not really because the choreographies are incredibly complex - so are nct’s - but because everyone in the room has been doing this for longer, is fantastic at what they do. Especially in this combination, Taeyong thinks, as he observes Ten, Taemin and Jongin talking to the choreographer. 

He knows, objectively, is aware, that he is a capable dancer. Is pretty sure he can work on himself and be good enough to match the others. Knows the company trusts him to do so. But it is still intimidating to see how quickly Ten picks up choreography or the ease with which Taemin performs the most difficult of moves. It settles heavy on his chest, that expectation to be as good as them, the responsibility put on him.

They run through the choreography so many times he loses track. The choreographer had left them after a couple hours, saying that between them they had the moves down and can continue themselves. Taeyong, for one, hadn’t felt like he had the moves down then and doesn’t feel like it now. 

Instead, he feels like his limbs have suddenly become much bigger than they were before the practice and he is much more aware of every part of his body than he needs to be, even for dancing. There is sweat dripping from his hair and down his face and sometimes into his eyes and it feels like slugs crawling on his skin. At about three hours in he is still messing up the same step sequence, even though they’ve run through it probably a hundred times and everyone else can do it perfectly. 

He knows - _knows_ \- it’s at least in part because his anxiety has escaped from his designated corner again, that it is taking over his limbs and his brain and mixing with the heavy feeling in his lungs. He feels panic in his throat, wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to run away, wants to _not fucking feel like this_ so he can finally focus on his job. He tries so hard to compartmentalise his panic again because this is the one place he absolutely cannot afford to break down. Not when he has been chosen for this. Not when his seniors are around.

They go through the step sequence again, Jongin doing it slowly for Taeyong to follow and they are slowing it just for him and must think he’s such an idiot for not being able to do it, even if their words remain kind. It’s not as hard slow, it really isn’t that hard at all, objectively, but when they rewind the music back to the start for a couple final runs, Taeyong immediately knows he will mess up again. He starts the routine anyway, pleads to his anxiety to _just_ _wait, just a little bit, please, not now, we can’t be doing this right now, just a couple final minutes, please, not right now_. 

But no part of his body is listening to him anymore and they are at that damned step sequence now and he feels panic clawing at his throat and filling his lungs and his chest is so heavy with it and he can’t dance can’t move can’t stand can’t breathe _can’t breathe CAN’T -_

…

Ten doesn’t see Taeyong fall, but he does hear it, hears the wail he lets out when his knees hit the floor. 

He’s there before he can even fully register what happened, looking for an injured ankle, foot, anything that would give him a clue as to what happened. But Taeyong isn’t clutching at any part of the body that he could’ve injured during dance. He’s curled up on himself with both his hands clenched in his hair as if he were trying to pull it out. His every inhale sounds ragged and every exhale sounds pained and he’s breathing fast, way too fast, even for someone injured and _fuck_ , Ten has seen this before. He thought Taeyong didn’t get panic attacks anymore, hasn’t seen any sign of it since they were trainees. But what he is seeing before him proves otherwise.

 _Oh fuck. Ok. He can do this. If he remembers correctly he just needs to get him to slow down his breathing. And not touch him._ That he remembers from last time.

He registers that someone had turned off the music and that he can’t hear Jongin and Taemin but that is the last of his priorities right now. He’s been trying to get Taeyong’s attention since he fell, has been calling his name, volume gradually increasing, but it’s as if Taeyong can’t hear him at all and his breathing is not getting better at all, seems to be speeding up, still.

“Hyung, Yong, please. It will be okay, you will be okay, you just have to listen to me, please?”

“Please hyung, talk to me, give me a nod, anything, just tell me if you hear me.”

“You’re okay, it’s all going to be ok, you’re going to feel better soon. You just have to listen to me, ok? I need you to focus on your breathing, to try to breathe deeper if you can.”

“Please, Taeyong hyung, can you hear me?”

He’s pleading, desperate. Taeyong is still not responding to him. Ten takes a breath to calm down, tries again in the most soothing voice possible, knows he has to try and try until Taeyong hears him. So he tries and tries to get through to him and to not start fucking panicking himself because damn he is not qualified to do this, what if something goes wrong, what if Taeyong gets worse, then what.

“Come on, hyung, you can do it. Just try to focus on me, ok?”

“You’re going to be alright, it’s all going to be better soon. It’s only me here, ok? You’re safe here. I just need you to listen to me.”

“Yong, hyung, please, it’s just me, I need you to listen, ok?”

It feels like they’ve been there for hours when he finally manages to get Taeyong to nod to indicate he hears him, which is when he switches to just telling him to breathe, to try to focus, to calm down, that he’s safe. But it’s not working, nothing is fucking working and it sounds like it is so painful for Taeyong to be like this, every breath a new wound. Ten is truly starting to lose hope that he can help him in any way when he registers Jongin in his peripheral vision and then a blanket is descending on Taeyong, leaving only the top of his head exposed.

Taeyong stills for a second and Ten opens his mouth to yell at Jongin for doing something so close to touching him but then he hears the breath Taeyong takes and it sounds a little slower, still ragged, but a little less pained. Better. It sounds better. Ten feels tears prickle in his own eyes as he goes back to whispering reassuring things, telling Taeyong how good he’s doing, that it will all be okay soon, that it will be over soon, telling him to breathe, breathe, breathe a bit slower, there you go.

He keeps whispering as Taeyong’s rough breaths turn into quiet sobs, as he slowly - so slowly - works to unclench his fists from his hair, uses them to pull the blanket closer to himself. Eventually even the sobs stop and while his breathing is still shaky, he seems calm for the first time since the fall. He still hasn’t lifted his head, hasn’t tried to speak, but Ten hadn’t really expected him to. 

“Hyung, do you think it’s over now?” A nod. Thank god. “Do you think you need to go to the hospital? Do you want to?” A shake of the head, very resolute for how drained Taeyong must feel right now. “Ok, do you think you’ll be ok to stay here by yourself for a bit? I’m gonna go talk to the manager. We’ll get you home, ok?”

“We’ve done that already, they’re waiting at the carpark.” Jongin says from their side, startling Ten even though he has remained there since he had brought the blanket. “We can go whenever you are ready, but no pressure.” He looks at Taeyong as he says it, who is still mostly hidden under the blanket.

A sniffle. “Thank you. I’m so sorry about this. I can go in a minute.” Taeyong sounds so tired, so defeated, quiet and watery. Ten wants nothing more than to hug him but isn’t really sure if he’s allowed yet, won’t risk it. Surprisingly, it’s Taemin who responds, voice gentle as always, “there is nothing to be sorry for, ok? Nothing. You can take as much time as you want, we’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“I also have tissues and water if you want either of those.” Jongin chimes in and Ten curses himself for not thinking of that, is immensely thankful that Jongin did. Taeyong nods and they sit in silence as he slowly - so slowly - lifts his head, dabs at his face, sits up, stretches his arms. Which is also when Ten remembers how he fell straight to the ground at the beginning.

“Taeyong hyung, did you hurt yourself during the dance? When you fell? Do you feel any pain now?” 

Shake of the head. “No it’s just… it’s… not physical.” He touches his temple as he says it, sighs, keeps his eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry, really sorry.”

“You really, really don’t have to be hyung. Do you think you can stand? Want to go down to the car?”

Taeyong is quiet for a bit, then sighs. “I think I might need some help. But I don’t want to make everyone wait any longer.” 

It’s the most defeated Ten has ever heard Taeyong sound and it crushes something deep within the part of his heart he doesn’t like to admit to having, where he keeps all the love he feels for his friends. He wishes Taeyong didn’t feel like this. Is sorry he didn’t do more to help. Wishes he knew how to. 

He can help at least a bit now, though, so he asks Taeyong if it is ok to touch him, helps him get to his feet and to the door. Jongin and Taemin beat them there, go to check that the hallway is empty. They all know how bad it could get if the wrong person saw them like this. The coast is blessedly clear though and they take the elevator all the way to the garage without any prying eyes seeing them. By the time they’re at the car Taeyong is walking basically by himself, though still visibly out of it. 

It shows in how curt he is when he thanks the seniors and apologises again before he slides into the back seat of the car, the door closing behind him. Ten turns to do the same.

“Thank you so much, really. I don’t know if I would’ve known what to do by myself. I’ll make sure to take care of Taeyong hyung when we get to the dorm. Lucas should be back now as well, we’ll stay with him.”

“Take care, both of you. We’ll see each other tomorrow, I believe.” Taemin’s smile is sad as he says it. They all wish there was more time to rest. That they didn’t have to see each other like this. But they all know the business isn’t like that, the seniors even better than him. So they say solemn goodbyes and Ten walks around the car and goes to open the door when he remembers something.

“Jongin hyung, how did you have that blanket? How did you know it would help?”

Jongin smiles, sad “Luhan hyung forgot it here when he left. Used to help him, thought it was worth trying now. It just took me ages to find it.”

“I was starting to lose hope when you came in with it. Thank you.” He bows again, gets into the car. Next to him Taeyong has pulled his feet up onto the seat, made himself as small as possible, head on his knees, eyes closed. Ten interprets that as a wish to not talk, turns his head to the other side and watches twilight falling onto Seoul sidewalks as they drive out of the garage and to the dorm.

Ten spends the ride replaying what happened during practice, thinking about how hard the past weeks must’ve been for Taeyong to break down like that, wondering if he is getting any sleep at all, any time to rest. Wishes for the fiftieth time that day for their schedules to be a bit slower. He wonders if Taeyong is thinking the same thing, but knowing him he’s probably only blaming himself for what happened. 

He panics momentarily when he realises he hadn’t told Jongin and Taemin to not tell anyone about this, but then remembers how easily Jongin admitted the blanket was Luhan’s. He had trusted Ten with that information even though they all know how much mess it could make if given to the wrong people. They won’t tell. They all know they have to trust each other as much as they know no one else can be fully trusted. It’s the shit part of their world. That and the schedules. Those are also shit.

Ten sends quick texts to Lucas and Mark, telling them that they’re going back, asking Lucas to meet them at the 127 dorm. The buzz of Lucas’s replies is the only sound to be heard during the whole car ride, a worried mix of mandarin, english and korean telling Ten that he will be there, that everyone else should be out. Mark doesn’t reply, but Ten remembers faintly that he’s supposed to be at a shoot, so he just assumes he can’t be on his phone right now.

To Ten’s relief the dorm does seem to be empty save for Lucas, who greets them at the door with worried eyebrows and questioning eyes. He doesn’t say anything but Taeyong still answers him, somehow seeing his expression without taking his eyes off the floor.

“I’ll be ok Lucas, you don’t need to worry. I just need a shower and a nap, it’s fine.” 

Except it clearly isn’t and Lucas seems to know that as well judging by the look he gives Ten. The last thing they want to do right now, though, is to upset Taeyong even more. So they don’t say anything about his shaky hands, don’t say anything when Lucas has to catch him by the elbow when he loses balance taking his shoes off. As Ten follows Taeyong to the bathroom they only speak to each other, to figure out where Taeyong’s pajamas are, if there is anything to warm up that he can eat. If Taeyong hears them, he doesn’t comment.

…

“‘Cas, can you get hyung’s pajamas? If he hasn’t changed his habits, they’ll be under his blanket.”

They are, Taeyong is a person of habit and he would be touched that Ten remembers such a minor thing but he is quite frankly too tired for positive emotions. He registers the conversation slipping into Mandarin and stops paying attention, heads to the bathroom. It’s only when he realises that Ten is following him that it dawns on him that he’s going to accompany him through the whole showering experience because Taeyong _can’t be fucking trusted_ to take a shower without adult supervision. To be fair to Ten, he would probably do the same if he were in his place. 

Still, it’s pathetic. God, he hates this so, so much. He’s so tired. He just wants to be alone. Or have Mark here, who would know how to talk him out of the tears prickling at his eyes. He will not cry. Not again. At least not before he gets into the shower. 

They don’t talk about Ten casually staying in the bathroom with him, even though the silence turns more awkward with every item of clothing Taeyong takes off. Ten looks like he’s halfway between wanting to apologise and wanting to help him but doesn’t do either, so Taeyong strips and gets into the shower, tells himself that maybe if he turns the water really hot it will wash away his shame, too.

He turns the water so hot it scalds but it feels good, too, the pain of it somewhere between a cleansing and a punishment for himself. He sort of wants to stay there forever, but Ten is waiting for him outside so he works, slowly - he is so tired - to wash his hair, wash the sweat off his skin. His tears, now unrestrained, mix with the soap suds and flow down the drain as he showers. When he’s done, he stares at the floor for a bit too long, wondering if he could somehow liquify himself and follow them. He knows he can’t though, so eventually he turns the water off and gets out.

Ten’s still in the bathroom, phone in hand, newly accompanied by a towel and Taeyong’s pajamas. Taeyong goes through the motions of drying and dressing himself mechanically, feeling shaky again now that he is out of the shower. It is always like this after panic attacks, like everything around him is slightly wrong. As if everything went a little askew while he wasn’t paying attention. His pajamas feel just slightly uncomfortable, the light in the bathroom just a little too bringt. He is starting to develop a headache.

“You look better, hyung.” Ten smiles, and Taeyong tries to see anything but pity in it. Fails. “Lucas should be done making you food so you can eat now and then just go to sleep.” 

Taeyong nods and it feels jerky but he can’t tell if it actually is or if it’s just his brain thinking it was. The sensation just makes him more uncomfortable. Only belatedly does he fully register what Ten had said.

“Wait, Lucas can cook?”

Ten smiles, a real, amused one “Yeah, he’s actually pretty good. He said he’d be making conghee? It’s like a rice thing? I think you call it something else here though.” 

Lucas is, indeed, in the kitchen, and the smell of whatever he is cooking floats in the air. Taeyong thinks he probably won’t die from eating it. Even if he wouldn’t be quite against that given his current state. He sits down at the table, stares at the wood in front of him, feels his muscles jerk in random patterns even though he’s just sitting down. It’s probably leftover adrenaline or just his brain making up the movement, he doesn’t care to know.

The world around him, even though it’s just their apartment, is too big for his brain to deal with right now, so he tries to focus only on little bits of it to make it a little easier for himself. The color of the wooden table. Lucas’s steps as he crosses the kitchen, his smile, too bright for Taeyong to comprehend. The bowl being set in front of him, rice and beef and a spoon for him to eat with. Lucas, still smiling, announcing “conghee” with a hint of jazz hands. 

Tayeong looks down at the bowl. “Ah, yuk. It’s called yuk in Korean. Thank you.” he sounds quiet and shaky even to his own ears but he can’t be bothered to care anymore. He will eat and then sleep and maybe he’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream or something. He still tries to smile up at Lucas, pretend that he is looking forward to eating his food. 

He reminds himself he hasn’t eaten the whole day and needs to eat at least this, even if his body is wholly against the idea. Movements still unsteady - at least to his own brain - he takes the spoon and scoops up some rice, brings it to his mouth. Each of the actions requires a separate conscious thought, his body unwilling to cooperate at the moment. 

It tastes surprisingly nice, even to his dulled senses, and he manages to finish the bowl with only some struggle. His limbs feel less jerky as he’s taking the last few bites, his headache receding slightly. He knows, objectively, that being properly fed makes him less prone to being anxious. He just doesn’t have the time or the energy to eat sometimes. There are more important things to do.

“Did you like it hyung?”

“Yes Lucas, thank you. It was really good.” 

Lucas beams. “The best cook in WayV, at your service!”

“Did Kun leave the group while I was practicing for SuperM?” Ten teases, and the normalcy of their bickering brings a little bit of air back into Taeyong’s chest. On better days he would feel sated now, pajamas and full stomach, friendly teasing around him. Like this though, the world still off-kilter, he is too uneasy to feel comfort. 

He is also so, so tired and still has a headache and, well, if he has the rest of the day off, he might as well use it to sleep. Ten and Lucas trail after him when he gets up, which he has expected given the whole bathroom accompaniment thing. He appreciates that they don’t comment when he passes his own door and heads for Mark’s instead. 

The world is a bit less wrong in Mark’s room. It still isn’t _right_ , but Taeyong breathes a little better when he observes the familiar surroundings. The blankets are messy and there’s a jacket thrown over the chair that Taeyong swears Mark’s been wearing since he first came to Seoul. It’s as close to having Mark here physically as he will get right now so he buries himself in the sheets and tries to find a position in which having a physical form doesn’t feel unbearable.

Ten and Lucas make camp on the floor next to the bed and Ten somehow produces his iPad and a pair of airpods out of thin air, opens some sort of TV series.

“We’ll just be here if you need anything, ok, Taeyong hyung? Don’t mind us otherwise. Unless you want to talk or something, of course.”

“No, thank you. I’m gonna try to sleep now. I really am sorry about today.” He is. He’s too tired right now to think about how it will affect him or the rest of the group. The groups, really. Maybe he can somehow convince everyone to forget this ever happened. Go back to how everything was before. 

He buries deeper into the sheets, sighs, tries to not let his thoughts go wild, to not let worries and shame consume him. He closes his eyes and counts as high as he can in as many languages as he knows to count in. He falls asleep sometime around 47 in Japanese.

…

_From_ : Ten

Can you text me whenever you have time? 

We’re currently on the way to the dorm, Taeyong huyng wasn’t feeling well so we decided to cut practice short. 

Me and xuxi will stay with him till you get back.

Now, Mark is not prone to jumping to worst-case scenarios. He has, in fact, been called too optimistic for his own good a good couple times in his life. But right now reading Ten’s text makes every inch of his person stiffen in dread. The text had been sent over an hour ago and there is no follow up and Mark’s brain is coming up with image after image of Taeyong sick or injured, feverish, fainting, bloody and crying, as he frantically types a reply.

_From_ : me

what happened is he alright is he sick

did he get injured

did you go to the hospital

where are you right now

It must’ve really been serious if they left before the end of practice, usually Taeyong wouldn’t allow that even if he were sick or dead tired, not on his own account at least. They were the same in this aspect, him and Mark, always the last in the practice rooms, the first ones to be back in the morning. It was how they got close initially, long before they knew they would debut together.

But Mark wasn’t there with him today and something happened and there are so many what if scenarios swirling around in Mark’s head, every time someone in the group got injured, the times people have passed out in practice and had to go get IVs at the hospital and then other, more drastic scenarios. Taeyong going to the hospital and finding out he is seriously ill, getting attacked by someone, lying in an alley bleeding, crying, alone.

He almost drops his phone when it buzzes with Ten’s reply, messes up his passcode twice in his haste to get to the message.

 _From_ : Ten

remember that one time when we were trainees when he had a panic attack? it was like that, only more intense. 

he said he didn’t need to go to the hospital

we took him home and gave him food, he’s asleep now, me and xuxi r here with him.

Mark reads it, forces himself to breathe, reads the message again. His brain replaces the image of Taeyong in a pool of blood with the image of Taeyong on the floor of the studio, breaths quick, tears streaming down his face, nobody there to help. Shit. 

_From_ : me

we just finished, i’ll be there as soon as i can

text me if he wakes up

we’re pretty far so i prob won’t be there for like an hour at least

He gathers his stuff quickly, helps the rest of his staff gather theirs, tries to make it seem like he’s just being nice and not just trying to get them to get the fuck out and on the road. 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Ten and Lucas to be there for Taeyong if he needs anything. It is that he knows how much Taeyong hates needing help, how much effort he puts into hiding his anxiety from everyone. Mark’s pretty sure he’s the only one that Taeyong has ever openly spoken about it with, the only one who he allows himself to be vulnerable in front of. And that has taken years of learning and building trust between them, years of talking and fighting and mistakes. Years of love, too.

It must’ve been an extremely bad day for Taeyong and Mark curses himself for not even texting him throughout it, not speaking to him in the morning. Knowing that it will be at least another hour before he can see Taeyong, that he is in pain and Mark isn’t there to help, makes his own chest hurt. It makes him restless on the car ride back to the dorms, annoyed at every red light they have to stop at. 

His phone buzzes as the car stops at yet another one (seriously, how).

 _From_ : Ten

i forgot to mention

hyung went to sleep in your room

so that’s where we are

just in case you can’t find us

That makes the guilt in his chest feel heavier, the fact that Taeyong clearly wanted him there, that he chose Mark’s room to sleep in over the comfort of his own. Mark knows that it’s not his fault, that he couldn’t have just run away from the shoot he was doing but he sort of wishes he knew, wishes he did run. Sort of wants to get out of the car now and run back to the dorms just to avoid all the fucking red lights.

He replies to Ten, puts music on, forces himself to breathe, to calm down. There is nothing to do but sit and wait right now. Ten will text him if Taeyong wakes up and they can at least text if Mark’s not at the dorm yet. And he will not be a very comforting presence to him if he’s freaking out himself. Plus he sure as hell does not want questions from anyone who’s in the car with him so he closes his eyes and pretends to sleep, tries to focus on Frank Ocean singing in his ears and not imagine what today must’ve looked like for Taeyong.

It takes an agonising 73 minutes before he is punching the code in for the dorm lock. There have been no new messages from Ten so he assumes they’re all still in his room. He takes his shoes off as fast as he can without making noise, notes the absence of any other 127 members as he walks to his door. Probably for the best, really.

It is quiet when he steps into his room and his eyes go to the bed immediately, checking for Taeyong. He is there, still asleep, would look perfectly peaceful in the white of Mark’s bed if it weren’t for his hands clutched in the sheets, holding on tightly even as he sleeps. Mark allows himself to just stand in the doorway for a minute, watching Taeyong’s chest rise and fall as he sleeps, drinking him in, reassuring himself that he is here, he will be alright, they will be alright. Mark is here now and he isn’t going anywhere.

Only belatedly does he remember Ten and Lucas should be here too and have probably watched him just stand there like an idiot for much too long. Upon inspection, though, he finds out that he doesn’t need to worry about that because both of them are asleep, Lucas leaning against the wall, Ten curled in his lap, not unlike a cat. Mark takes out his phone to snap a few photos, both because they look genuinely adorable and because this will probably make for pretty good blackmail material, just in case. The next time Ten tries to pretend he’s not a touchy person he shall be proven wrong.

When he’s satisfied with the photos he goes to wake them up, his pointer finger over his lips to remind them to be quiet. Ten blinks awake first and a faint blush spreads over his cheeks when he realises what position Mark has found them in. Together they wake up Lucas and Mark thanks them both in the quietest whisper he is capable of, sends them back to their own dorm so they can sleep in their beds instead of on his floor. They wish him good luck as they exit, Lucas doing a surprisingly good job mimicking ‘text us if you need anything’ instead of attempting to whisper and then Mark is left alone with a sleeping Taeyong.

Since there is really nothing Mark can do at the moment he very very quietly changes out of the clothes he was at the shoot in into much more comfortable shorts and a hoodie and very carefully slides under the blankets at the edge of the bed, praying not to wake Taeyong up. He manages, which honestly makes him a bit worried because Taeyong must be truly exhausted if he didn’t even stir through that. 

For a while Mark just sits there, watches Taeyong’s face, notes the circles underneath his eyes, listens to his breaths. He feels a smile form on his face but it is a bittersweet one, stuck between ‘i love him a lot’ and ‘I wish I could help him more’. Because while he is pretty sure the worst of it is over for today, he knows that this is not the end of it. Most of the time one bad day means there will be more bad days to follow, especially after a panic attack. Those are always painful and exhausting for Taeyong, usually mean he feels off for the rest of the day at best, more likely for a couple of days after. 

The way Taeyong had described it to him is that anxiety is like background noise to him most of the time, not pleasant but manageable, sometimes even unnoticeable when the world around him is loud enough. On bad days, though, the noise is louder, sometimes too loud for Taeyong to be able to pay attention to anything else and it is painful, like Donghyuck taking Mark’s guitar and trying to strum the strings as hard and as fast as he can. And sometimes the noise is so loud that the strings break and Taeyong is left gasping for air, hands clawing at his own throat, tears streaming down his cheeks, brain clouded with panic.

And every time that happens Taeyong needs time to recover, both physically and mentally, to grow those strings back together, all while the echo of them breaking still vibrates in the air. He’s told Mark over and over that he loves what they do too much to take a break, to take time to heal somewhere quiet when the noise in his head gets too much. And Mark gets that, he really does, the need to be on stage as much as they can, the need to feel music running through their veins. He knows that’s why they’re here, why they go on stage or to practice even without sleep, with aching limbs and empty stomachs, even on days when everything is wrong. 

But it is times like these when he looks at Taeyong and wishes they didn’t have to run themselves ragged over and over and over to be where they are now. He watches Taeyong sleep and wishes they could pack up and leave for a couple weeks, stay in hostels in Europe or resorts in Japan or in his childhood bedroom in Vancouver. 

He knows they both need music, need the stage, need performing, but sometimes he wishes they were just normal kids doing normal shit, sleeping until noon and then making out all afternoon, only getting out of bed to eat. Going out to drink and dance and laughing at each other’s hangovers in the morning. Going outside without the fear of being mobbed, holding hands under coffee tables, maybe kissing in the side streets where no one will see.

But Taeyong speaks for them both when he tells interviewers that he wouldn’t trade this for anything and really they are so lucky to get to do this, to have people who want to listen to their music, come to their shows. To have a company which wants to put them on stage, even if the price for it is steep. This is, after all, what they chose and now all they can do is support the others so that they never have to fulfil their shared dream without them. Because it would still be music, it would still be the stage, but it would not be the dream if he were on stage alone.

Taeyong is still asleep, tiny snores escaping his mouth every couple breaths and Mark decides that that’s been enough existential thinking and pulls out his phone to look up something mindless to watch while Taeyong sleeps. He pops one of his headphones in, checks Taeyong’s face for any sign of distress one last time and settles in to watch a Japanese dude make a knife out of milk (which, what?).

…

For the second time that day, Taeyong wakes up in panic. He doesn’t really remember falling asleep, he’s not in his own bed and the room is dark and he doesn’t know if that’s because it’s late in the evening or early in the morning and he can’t remember what he’s supposed to be doing right now, what if he’s already late to something, what if their manager is waiting for him, where is his phone, where-

“Hyung. Hyung. You’re alright. You’re in my room, it’s the evening, we have the rest of the day off, I'm here, everything is ok.”

 _Mark_. 

Taeyong takes a deep breath. The past few hours come back to him, going home, choosing to sleep in Mark’s bed, wanting him near. And now Mark is here, smiling at him when he turns his head and it’s warm, so warm, it spreads in his chest and lets him breathe easier.

“Hi hyung. I’m sorry I wasn’t here before. How are you doing?”

The warmth spills further in Taeyong’s chest. “You don’t.. you don’t have to be sorry for that. You’re here now, that’s enough. More than enough.” It is, really. It’s not that Mark’s presence magically makes his anxiety disappear, it doesn’t make the world suddenly right, but it grounds Taeyong, gives him an anchor while he waits for everything to settle back into manageable places. 

“I’m... “ Taeyong almost says fine, just out of habit, but then reminds himself that this is Mark, that he doesn’t have to hide, not from him. It still takes effort to be honest about this, to tell Mark how he really feels, how bad his brain sometimes gets. He takes a breath, tries again. “It’s been a really bad day. I’m still so tired.” 

Mark’s eyes turn soft. “I’m sorry hyung. Do you want to talk about it?” 

Taeyong knows he will need to, eventually. That he will need Mark’s help to talk to Ten and Lucas and to the rest of the group, that he will need Mark to be there if the company decides he is no longer suited for his positions. But just thinking about it makes his lungs close up again and he tips over from where he’s been sitting and exhales his “no” against Mark’s sternum. Mark is warm and his hoodie smells like Taeyong’s favorite detergent and this, Taeyong things, is safe.

“Hugs ok hyung?” Mark asks, the words purring where Taeyong’s ear is pressed to his chest. 

It still surprises Taeyong, how casually Mark asks, how easily he has accepted that he has to ask sometimes, how willing he is to help, to be there, to do exactly what Taeyong needs, always. It shouldn’t be surprising, not after so many years of them both learning how to navigate this relationship, how to be there for the other. And yet, on days like these, Taeyong doesn’t quite believe he is allowed to have this, that they’re allowed to have each other.

“Hyung, did you fall asleep?” 

“No, sorry. Yes, hugs, please. Tell me about the shoot?”

They shuffle around a bit so that Mark can free his arm from under Taeyong and Taeyong tangles their legs together and thanks his brain for sleeping off the whole ‘touching is awful’ thing so that he’s able to cuddle Mark as he talks. Lying like this, Mark’s arms around him, his heartbeat faintly audible as Taeyong lies on his chest, rising and falling with each breath Mark takes, he can close his eyes and make the outside world disappear, let Mark’s retelling of the day’s events fill his thoughts, chasing away his omnipresent worries.

Like this, Mark’s voice filling his ears, he feels peaceful for the first time today. He knows it won’t last, not really, knows that his anxious thoughts are still lingering somewhere at the edges of his mind. He will have to talk to Mark about today eventually, they will need to talk to the other members, to the managers. Who knows, really, what will happen. But that is for later, when he is a bit less tired, a bit more able to deal with it. Right now, he is grateful for the distraction Mark’s presence provides.

Mark talks for a long time, rambles about the clothes and the cameras and the photographer having way too specific of a vision and Taeyong listens and listens, tries to imagine everything Mark is describing, hums every once in a while to indicate he hasn’t fallen asleep. There is a pause after Mark finishes and Taeyong really is close to sleeping when Mark asks: “Hyung, do you ever wish you chose to do something different? Something… not so stressful?”

Taeyong has to lift his head to look at him then, to check his expression. His eyes are curious, maybe a little wistful, but there is no regret in them. Taeyong calms, lets himself think about it.

“Not really to be honest. I wish we had more time off, sometimes. More time to sleep. But I don’t want to stop doing this, I love it too much. Love you all too much… I don’t even know what I would do if I hadn’t chosen this, if they hadn’t scouted me. And like, sure, this is stressful and having a shit brain doesn’t help but it wouldn’t really be different somewhere else, would it. My brain would still be angry at me and I wouldn’t get to do all the crazy cool things we get to do... I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Cheesy, hyung. Way too cheesy. But I’m glad.”

“Do you? Wish you were somewhere else?”

“Me? No, I love this too much. It’s fun, even if it’s hard. It’s just.. sometimes I wonder, because I was so young when I came here, like, what would happen to little Mark had he stayed in Canada, you know? Probably wouldn’t be anything this cool though.”

“You’re the coolest indeed.” Taeyong says, very seriously, watches Mark’s cheeks turn pink even as he visibly cringes. 

“Hyung” 

“The coooooolest.”

“Hyuuung, god, please stop.”

“Mark Lee, the coo-” he doesn’t finish the sentence because Mark kisses him, just a quick press of lips on lips, but enough for Taeyong to forget what he was doing. 

There’s a different kind of calm that comes with kissing Mark, Taeyong’s brain turning off completely, leaving space only for physical sensation and the overwhelming affection he feels towards the boy. He chases the feeling when Mark retreats, moves one of his hands to cradle his cheek, keeps his kisses light. One, an apology. Two, a reassurance. Three, a thanks. He’s always been better at this than words. 

Mark’s eyes are closed when Taeyong pulls away and hazy when he blinks them open but soft, always so soft, always gentle. A smile blooms on his face and Taeyong has no other choice but to kiss him again. He’s smiling too, though, so it’s less of a kiss and more just lips and teeth and shared breath, but Taeyong makes up for that by rubbing his nose against Mark's before he cuddles back down onto his chest. 

“Thank you, for everything. Tomorrow’s still gonna suck but this - you being here - makes it all a bit easier.”

“You don’t have to thank me huyng, not for this, ever, ok? I want to be here for you, always. I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better now.” Mark holds him a little tighter when he says it and Taeyong is not quite sure he will ever believe he deserves him, that he deserves all his kindness. He knows part of that is just his shitty brain talking but, well, it’s his brain, it’s not like he can not listen.

“Still. Thank you.” 

He finds Mark’s other hand, intertwines their fingers, runs his thumb along the back of Mark’s knuckles. Silence settles over them and Taeyong wishes it didn’t because that’s all it takes for his brain to remind him that tomorrow will have to happen and that there is a real chance that by this time next evening he will no longer have a job and that is quite frankly terrifying. He plays with Mark’s fingers for a long time before he finds the strength to voice that thought.

“Mark?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think they’re gonna kick me out? Because of today? Because I’m like this?” Taeyong shuts his eyes when he says it, as if not seeing could somehow protect him from the question and the answer both.

“Hyung, hey, can you look at me?” Taeyong does, reluctantly. Mark’s eyes are hard for the first time that evening. “They will not kick you out, ok? They will not. I know Korea’s not really accepting of mental health things yet and the company is what it is but they can’t afford to kick you out, you are too good. NCT wouldn’t be NCT without you.”

“You know they can still kick me out though, if they want to. They’ll figure it out. No one is irreplaceable.” 

“You are, hyung. If not to them, then to us. If they try to kick you out? You have 20 of us behind your back. And hyungs from SuperM. We all need you here, ok?”

He looks so certain of it, so sure, and Taeyong really wants to believe him, he does. But he himself hates how weak he is, can’t imagine the others wanting to keep him now that they know everything. Now that they know he requires special care.

He must’ve said some of it out loud because Mark grips his hand firmer. 

“You’re not weak, hyung. If anything, you are stronger than everyone else here, dealing with anxiety on top of all the stuff we do, never letting it affect your performance.” And Taeyong wants to believe that, he really does. But that’s not what his brain is hardwired to do.

“Still.. what if they all hate me now?” he sounds whiny, he knows, but he needs to hear the answer, even if his brain won’t let him believe it.

“They don’t. I promise, hyung. None of them will hate you. They’re good people. And you have done nothing wrong, ok. Nothing. Also, I’ll be there if you want to talk to anyone about this, alright? I’ll be here with you, always.”

Taeyong definitely does not deserve him. 

He brings their intertwined hands to his face, kisses each one of Mark’s knuckles and hopes he understands the gratitude he is putting into each of the kisses. The tips of Mark’s ears are red when Taeyong looks up at him and there is something lovely about how Taeyong’s affection still makes him shy, even after so many years. They’re both bad at voicing their feelings so there is no “I love you” said before Taeyong kisses Mark properly, square on the lips. 

They both hear it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it all the way here, thank u, i luv u
> 
> BLACK LIVES MATTER  
> find the resources and contribute to the cause at <https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/#>
> 
> for anyone interested you can read more about generalised anxiety [here](https://www.psycom.net/bookstore.anxiety.html) about social anxiety [here](https://www.psycom.net/social-anxiety-disorder-overview) and about panic attacks [here](https://www.psycom.net/what-does-a-panic-attack-feel-like/)
> 
> if you are struggling with anything mental health related and feel like you would like to talk to someone [this](http://mentalhealth.wearespur.com) is a fairly extensive list of helplines and online resources as sorted by countries. for anyone in europe struggling with dealing with all the craziness happening in the world rn there is a list of helpful places [here](https://www.mhe-sme.org/library/helplines/) . lastly, [this](https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html) is the most extensive list of suicide hotlines i have found, though i hope no one will need that one.
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kamyskamyska) and yell at/with me  
> (i also have a [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kamyska) i never go on to but i will answer asks if you have any)


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